FROST SECURITY
The Complete 5-Books Series
Glenna Sinclair
Copyright © 2017
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
BOOK ONE: Richard
BOOK TWO: Frank
BOOK THREE: Jacob
BOOK FOUR: Matthew
BOOK FIVE: Peter
BOOK ONE: Richard
Chapter One - Richard
My pack and I streaked through the moonlit forest of the Colorado high country, powerful legs sending us bounding over rocks and between the firs, spruce, and pine. Peter Frost, our pack leader, had caught wind of something on the western winds, and we followed his lead as we went loping through the pass, the dim light of the stars and our keen sense of smell more than enough to see by . Five furry shapes, all wolves, but far larger than the average, darting through the forest.
We didn't run like this every night. Only on nights we didn't have a job going through the agency, and only nights when the singing in our blood was too strong to ignore. But, still, this was what it was about. Running with your brothers, hunting with them, feeling the air rush through our fur, the fragments of rock and pine needles beneath our paws, howling at the moon.
We were shifters. Were we men who could becomes wolves? Or wolves that became men? I didn't know, and I didn't care. The old ways of wolf-men didn't hold any sway over me. Why would they? I was my own shifter, and I belonged to my own pack. My name is Richard Murdoch, a man who'd served my country on two legs in the Army, far across the ocean in a land of sand and rocks. At night, I'd hunt the deserts and mountains, there, my lonely cry terrifying both the enemy and my allies.
Now, beneath the Colorado moon, I ran with my pack. And, beneath the Colorado sun, I helped to defend people who needed it. Both helped me be true to myself. Both helped me hear the rush of blood in my veins.
Frank O'Dwyer, the dark brown wolf by my side, growled as he looked down into the small valley. If Frost had the best nose of us all, then Frank had the best eyes. He may have been part eagle, for all I knew. He could probably spot a flea moving on a rat from a thousand meters, and he saw a herd of elk moving in the distance like they were right in front of his snout.
Frost took off like a bullet from a gun, a clatter of rocks at his feet and a frothing snarl in his maw. We followed suit, our paws kicking up dirt and dry grass as we raced down out of the mountains, our blood lust up, the thrill of the hunt all that mattered in our minds. We came from the east, upwind, and raced down into the valley, Matthew Jones and I tumbling over each other in our haste, his reddish fur standing out brightly amongst the green underbrush, even in the darkness.
Peter barked back at me and Matthew as we rolled down part of the way in a ball of yellow and red fur, and we quickly disentangled, our tails slightly wagging as we leapt forward and joined the pack, continued our run.
There, in front of us, stretched the river as it meandered through the valley, a ribbon of the moon’s light laid out through the grass and rocks.
Moving like one organism, the five of us sprinted down into the valley, barking and howling. This far away from any town or city, we could actually let loose. We could actually be free.
Matthew, Frank, and I raced each other for the river, our paws scraping across the skittering stones of the bank. The three of us plunged into the water, icy even this late in the summer. Peter and Jake followed after us, even Peter barking with enjoyment for once as he tackled me under the water.
Exhausted, the five of us finally came back to shore, panting and shaking the water from our fur. All five of us raised our faces to the moon, turned our snouts to Luna herself, and let loose a howl.
This was freedom. The best life could ever offer a shifter like me.
The only thing that would make it perfect?
Having a mate to go home to.
Soaking wet, we headed back up through the valley, panting in the darkness as we cleaned ourselves of blood. At the top of the pass, Frost stopped, his tail in the air.
He sniffed the air, growling softly as we drew up behind him. We all glanced to each other, and one of us whined low. What is it? Why'd we stop?
But, just as quickly as he'd smelled it, it seemed to be gone.
Maybe a storm was coming? Or he'd caught a bit of smoke floating through the mountain air? Whatever it was, we moved on through the woods, and back down the mountain to home.
To Enchanted Rock.
We had work in the morning, after all.
Chapter Two – Jessica
“Get out of Enchanted Rock, Jessica Long,” groaned the modulated voice into my ear. “Get out before I send you out on my own. Just a matter of time before I lose patience.”
Frozen in a moment of fear, I just slammed my work phone back down into its cradle, my breath coming out in wheezes. The sun was bright, but a sudden coldness gripped my soul, a feeling of someone walking back and forth over my grave.
I jumped, letting out a yelp as a hand gripped my shoulder.
My friend Sheila, who was standing right next to my desk chair, retracted her hand quickly in surprise. “Whoa there, girl. Was it him again? Your stalker?”
I nodded tersely, brushed a long, dark lock of hair from my face. “Yeah. Yeah, it was him.”
Sheila had been helping me out for the last week or so with the books at Curious Turtle, the little art gallery I co-owned and managed in Enchanted Rock. Blake Axelrod, my silent partner, had lately become my eternally silent partner.
He was dead—a heart attack got him. He was in his early fifties, and he'd just keeled over while out hunting one day. By all accounts, the white tail deer were all breathing a sigh of relief. His funeral had been last week, and I still hadn't been able to wrap my head around it.
The last thing I needed was death threats from some loony-tune while I was sorting everything out and trying to forecast where my business was going to be in six months, or if it was even going to be around at all. One more year with slow tourism, and that might be it. Rent was going up, but my profits weren’t.
Axelrod sure had left me a mess with the financials, too—which was where Sheila came into the picture.
Sheila Pearson had been one of my best friends since high school. We'd both been on the cheer squad, which is how we got closer. She'd gotten her master’s degree in accounting from Colorado State, but had never really moved out of town long term. As soon as she finished grad school, she was right back in Enchanted Rock, or the Rock as the locals called it. Her take on it: why would she leave the mountains? Even Denver was too far away from the Rockies for her, and it was over a mile above sea level. Of course, the wider corporate world's loss was certainly my gain. She actually enjoyed doing this accounting stuff, and I hardly understood it.
“Have you talked to the sheriff about it yet?”
“Yeah, of course,” I replied with a shrug and a long, tired sigh as I crossed my arms. “But Sheriff Peak says he can't do anything about them. All the calls have been from disposable cell phones and different numbers each time, as far as he can tell. He can't place a restraining order or threaten someone with charges if he can't find them.”
Sheila screwed up her face, frowning like she'd just bit hard into a lemon.
“The security guys?” Sheila asked, cocking her head to the side. “I guess. Maybe. I dunno, really.”
“Think they'd be able to do anything?”
“I don't know. Really think you need some extra help with this?” Sheila asked as she leaned against my desk. “I mean, if the cops can't do anything about it how could they?”
I sighed again in frustration. I didn't think this asshole would really do anything, but having it hang over my head like the sword of Damocles wasn't helping with my sense of wellbeing or my stress levels. “I'm just at wit's end here, then?” I asked more than said, wrinkling my nose. “I don't need a babysitter, Sheila, but I'd like something, anything.”
“I don’t know,” she said after a moment, “I mean, it’d probably just be a waste of your time to go in there. They mainly do corporate stuff, I think.”
“Well, maybe it’d be worth just talking to them?”
“Yeah,” she hesitantly agreed, “You need some peace of mind. The calls are getting more frequent. That's the second one today. I just don't understand why the sheriff isn't doing anything.”
I laughed. “Want him to bug my phone line or something? I don't think they even can. You've seen those old cars they drive around in, girl. They're not exactly Mission Impossible or James Bond over there.”
“Well, maybe they can watch out for you for a little while? Put a cruiser in front of your house or something? A deputy maybe?”
I grinned at her. “Worried about me?”
She smiled a little, but it quickly faded. “Jess, I'm going to be honest. I kind of am. This has been going on for weeks. Way too long.”
I shook my head, a frown forming on my face. “Well, I don't think I need around the clock protection,” I said. “What I need is someone who can find this guy and get him to leave me alone. That's what I want.”
“Well,” Sheila said, going around the desk to sit down in the other chair across from me, “maybe they can? Maybe if they answer the call or something, they'll be able to scare these guys off? I mean, that's kind of what they do right? Secure things? Why would it matter if you’re just a person instead of a business?”
I shrugged and slumped back in my desk chair, tilting my head back. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And if anyone can do it,” Sheila continued, “it's these guys. I met two of them while they were working for Daddy, and they gave off this whole ex-military vibe. They had guns and stuff. Like, kind of scary.”
“Scary?”
Sheila grinned and brushed her short hair from her forehead. “Well, scary, but I don't know—kinda hot, too.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I see now. Your master plan.”
“Master plan?”
“Act all antsy about me going to them, to avoid suspicion…”
A look of shock came over her face, like I'd just shot her horse or run over her dog.
“…just so I can give these guys some more work and you can have an excuse to have them hanging around again.”
The look immediately faded and she laughed. “Dammit, Jess, that's so not it, and you know it. Shit, maybe I'm worried you'll meet someone and leave my single ass all alone. You thought of that?”
I shook my head, grinning. “Not likely. You know me, I can't get tied down. But have you thought that maybe he'd have a friend? A nice handsome one that you haven't known since you were in diapers?”
“At this point, I'd just be happy as long as he walks on two legs and is housebroken.”
I laughed a sad little laugh that turned into a sigh. It had been a while since I'd dated anyone. It just seemed that most of the guys I met up here were either wealthy assholes just passing through or total hicks I couldn't stand. But I was like Sheila. As much as I loved the oceans, big cities, and the wider world, I knew I'd never be able to drag myself from these mountains, the snow, the trees, the way the air smelled on a winter morning or a summer night.
“Look,” Sheila said after a moment, “I'm really worried about you. If you don't think Peak can help, maybe you should call.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding, “you're probably right. What were these guys called again?”
“Frost Detectives? Something like that, I think. I can get something from Daddy about them. I bet he kept their card in case he had any more problems.”
“Really that good, then?” I asked as I leaned forward and propped myself up on my elbows. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Best in the state is what Daddy told me.”
I waved her off and opened my laptop and began to sign in. “I can figure it out. How many Frost security firms could there be in Colorado? And in the Rock, no less?”
A few minutes later Sheila and I were both crowded around my laptop, looking through their website. It was well designed. No flashy ads or videos, just a straight rundown of the services they provided. And, wow, did they provide some services. Surveillance, counter-surveillance, missing persons, physical security, fire investigations. They were like a mini-police force, all fully licensed and bonded by the state of Colorado.
“No bios, huh?” Sheila pouted.
I playfully elbowed her in the side. “Wanted to see if your hotties were still working?” I teased.
“No,” she said with an exaggerated whine. “Well, yeah. Also, I wanted to see what their turnover was like.”
“Makes sense they wouldn't show pictures of the guys,” I replied, “especially if they're doing surveillance.”
“Good point,” Sheila agreed. “You gonna call?”
“Well, they look on the up and up. I guess it can't hurt to talk to them, right?”
“Right,” she said. “Call them and see if you can set up a meeting.”
A few minutes and two rings of the phone later I had their secretary on the line, a nice grandmotherly-sounding sort. “Frost Security, Genevieve speaking. How may I assist you today?”
“Hello, my name is Jessica Long.” I hesitated. “I think I have a stalker problem I may need help with.”
“Well, Ms. Long,” Genevieve replied without missing a beat, “briefly tell me what you can about the situation, and we'll see what kind of help we're able to provide.”
I sighed and smiled, then began to give her a brief sketch of my problem. Five minutes later, I had a meeting scheduled with Peter Frost, the owner of the agency, for later that afternoon.
Chapter Three - Richard
I marched back into the office from my lunch break around one o'clock. It was just me and Peter in the office today, besides Genevieve, our secretary.
The Frost Security office was a little unconventional. Peter had picked the old saloon up for a song a few years earlier when we'd decided to finally make our start as a security agency. The renovations required a lot of hard work. We handled everything from gutting the interior and redoing all the plumbing, to rewiring the whole joint. But it was ours, lock, stock, and barrel, out on the far edge of Enchanted Rock. We'd kept a lot of the wild west motif, liking the unique style of the design. Rather than keep it as an open barroom, though, we'd installed glass offices and a conference room. The clear walls were all equipped with shades we could draw to give us privacy when needed.
The other guys, Jacob, Matthew, and Frank, had come along over the course of the next couple years. Every time our IT girl, Lacy, found a report of a wolf spotting in a place where wolves were never spotted, Peter or I flew out for recruitment. Most of the time they had a pack, or we realized they weren't up to snuff for our team. But sometimes you found guys like us. Ex-military, living their lives as veterans in the best possible ways they knew.
Like Jacob, who had been a cop in LA after he mustered out of service. Or Frank, who'd been a private bodyguard in Brazil after serving his country. Or even Matthew, who had been a firefighter after doing his time as a rescue jumper in the Air Force. Sure, they cou
ld be rough around the edges at certain times, but they were all good men. I was proud to call them part of my pack. And that was a phrase I'd never imagined myself my saying: part of my pack.
Then, of course, there was me. Served two tours in Afghanistan, but came home to nothing. No family, no parents, no girlfriend. My father had cut us from the pack, got tired of their gypsy ways, unique to them, and settled down with a human woman. They had me. By the time I'd realized what I was, though, he had died from a hit and run accident. Mom remarried, but the guy was a real asshole. She pushed me off into the military. I didn't want to leave her unprotected, but she'd forced me to go. Said she wanted a better life for me than she could provide.
Looking back, it was clear she knew what was coming. My stepfather murdered her six months into my first deployment, confessed to the cops and everything. By the time I'd gotten back, they'd locked him up in the federal pen for life, and I had no chance for revenge. I would've taken it, too, so it was probably better there'd been no delay with a trial. It took me a little while to get over my anger and make peace with what had happened, but I finally did.
I worked as a bouncer for a couple years after I got out, until Peter found me. We spotted each other at first as he came into the little bar in Texas where I was working, like two veterans sometimes do. It's the way we stand, the way we scan the room for possible threats, the way we cross our arms even. We knew right off the bat that the other guy had been in combat.
Then, of course, we smelled each other. A musky, othery scent that only shifters can smell on one another, like two wolves in the wild. He left and bought a bottle of whiskey and a case of beer, then waited around for me in the parking lot till after close.
He hadn't been my first shifter to meet like this, but he'd been the first one to put up beer and bourbon as a peace offering. We split the booze and stayed up till morning in his shitty motel room, unburdening ourselves of how different we were. How different we were from the rest of the shifters out there, the wild ones who didn't care about people the way we did. He told me about his plan to come up here, to Enchanted Rock, and start his own business. About how he could use a man like me on the payroll. It sounded too damned good to be true.
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